Harry's Army
by Laureanna
Summary: Harry has devised a clever new plan to defeat Voldemort... but Hermione, Ron, and everyone else at St. Mungo's think he's off his rocker. Could it be because of the penguins? Second chapter now up take a look and tell me what you think!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I intended this to be a one-shot, but if I were to get enough reviews… well, lets just say anything is possible._

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter, regrettably, is not mine. Nor are any of the characters, but I'm too far away from J.K Rowling for her to sue me._

"Blast, blast damn and blast!"

The restrained curses floated out the door and into the corridor, just as Ron and Hermione were approaching. They froze briefly and exchanged a long, doubtful look,

"We have to do this, don't we Ron?" Hermione said, biting her lip.

Ron just nodded, took hold of her hand and led her into the room. It was white, stark white, with freshly cleaned walls and a metallic-framed single bed in the centre of the room. The floor was gleaming cream linoleum, and the large set of drawers to the side of the hospital room was, just to keep with the theme, white. In contrast to this bland world, which seemed to have been designed by someone with little or no imagination, were quite literally hundreds of stuffed penguin toys. Ranging from the size of a glass to the size of a person, and in every colour imaginable, the flightless birds of the Antarctic surrounded a tall, thin boy sitting at a sewing machine. His shining green eyes remained intent upon his work in front of him, he was trying to unpick a mess of green stitching, as his visitors entered, he seemed to take no notice of them.

"Harry?" said Hermione gently

"Harry, it's us mate."

Finally he looked up and his face broke into a broad, energetic smile

"You've come about my work haven't you? Come to interview me? I'm afraid they're not for sale, no not at the moment, I need them you see. I need an army."

Hermione and Ron let their hands fall away from each other and moved slowly to the bed, worry etched across their faces.

"No Harry, we haven't come to interview you," said Ron

Harry's face fell with disappointment and he muttered something under his breath as he returned to the stitches on the pink fabric in front of him.

"It's about your memory Harry," Hermione looked close to tears "Oh Harry can't you remember anything? Can't you remember the prophecy, the Horcruxes, Voldemort… any of it?"

At this Harry's head swung around again to face them so fast that Hermione gave a small gasp and fell back on the bed slightly. Ron caught her and pushed her back up again.

"Voldemort? Of course! The nurses told me all about _that _wacko. That's what these are for. Apparently, what we need, right, is an army, some kind of unconquerable army. So I thought, and this was pure genius you'll see, I thought – penguins! These nurses have been giving me really odd looks and saying frankly bizarre things about magic and curses (and just between you and me I think some of them are a bit confused in the head, you know). But I've got it all sorted up here," Harry tapped his temple knowingly and nodded his head slightly "This Voldemort guy needs sorting out, and my penguins are just perfect for the job."

There was an awkward silence. Someone down the corridor coughed.

"Harry mate, you've got to listen to us," Ron stood up to put his hand on his best friend's shoulder and kneel down to his height, "It's not the nurses that are a little loopy. It's you. You're completely crackers. You need to use your wand to sort out You-Know-Who, not stuffed birds."

Harry leaped back, looking around wildly, reached out an arm and grabbed a nearby fluorescent yellow, two foot penguin, he waved it at his visitors like a deadly weapon.

"You're working for them, aren't you? You can't stop me! It's destiny! Don't you dare tell Him of my plans, you'll ruin it for all of us!"

"We're your best friends Harry," Hermione sniffled "Please, you've got to let us help get your memory back."

"So you know who stole it do you?" Harry's eyes glared through his glasses to examine Hermione's face "You know who's behind all of this?"

"Yes Harry," she replied with a sigh, "we know exactly what happened. We were there. We've been over this before – your memory has gone. A Death Eater used a Memory Charm on you, and now you're confused with no idea just how much you mean to us, or to the whole Wizarding World. We're your friends, Harry. We just want to help."

Harry narrowed his eyes, and slowly lowered the penguin. Just as Ron let out a deep breath he had been holding in while Hermione had tried to explain, Harry gave a loud "Ah hahahaha!", pulled back his arm and began a barrage of soft, furry missiles on his two old school-friends.

Later, not long after Hermione and Ron had run, arms over their heads, at great speed from the room and out of the ward, one of St. Mungo's more experienced nurses ambled along the corridor collecting the remnants of the battle. She stopped to admire one of the creatures, judging by the gleaming colour of its orange fur it was fairly recently made. Admiring the even stitches and accurate proportions, the nurse, whose name was Maude, incidentally, noted the name "Ron" running along a small space by the toy's neck.

"They really are very good," Maude said to nobody in particular, and continued to collect the rest.


	2. Chapter 2: A Plan Takes Flight

**Chapter Two: A Plan Takes Flight**

The sun rose over London. Ordinary Muggles were getting in buses, cars and tubes and making their daily pilgrimages to their ordinary jobs, but in a disguised, disused and discarded department store, Harry Potter was just waking up.

He'd had a brainwave.

It wasn't just as simple as making the penguins, he realised – he needed to train them. He leapt from his bed in St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and rushed to his small window. The sun was just rising… if he could get it done today… He gave a small cackle.

Harry peered around his curtain and looked around the room at the other inhabitants of his ward, to check they were still sleeping, then sat on the edge of his bed again to think things over. Reassess this whole 'Voldemort' situation. There was a reason he didn't just chuck out this idea of a menacing, evil, manipulating Lord, controlling the lives of these poor deluded people. You see, unlike the way the nurses, and even those who kept claiming to be his best friends were going on about magic spells, cauldrons and mind-addling weapons, there was something about Lord Voldemort's existence that Harry believed in.

He felt as though he'd met this Voldemort chap before, you know, actually come face to face with him and done something really… heroic. And now he knew that this heroism was expected of him yet again, and he'd really have to top whatever it was he managed last time. Harry sighed. Barely seventeen and the world expected some sort of magic from him.

But Harry had something better than magic, for soon, before that same sun now rising had enough time to shuffle on over to see what was on the other side of the horizon, the penguins would be ready. Their leader, the enigmatic, fearless and extremely orange Ron caught Harry's gaze and gave the slightest wink – he understood what needed to be done.

Harry stood up determinedly and marched to his door. The next step would be to get hold of some education material, perhaps a few videos and some diagrams. From there, the rest is fail proof.

* * *

A plump, elderly witch was ambling down the corridors, seemingly supported only by the food cart she was wheeling. Stopping by the next curtain, she gave a gentle tap so as to not further disturb the mentally disturbed, and informed the occupant that breakfast had arrived.

She tapped again. Not unusual, as many in this ward couldn't acknowledge their own existence, let alone someone else's.

"Just coming in now, Mr Potter," she called, and turned the door handle as there was still no reply.

"Shall I just leave it here on the table then, Mr Potter?" The elderly face gave a warm smile as she set down the tray and tottered out the door.

"Everything alright in there Marjorie?" A passing Healer asked as the woman closed the door behind her.

"Oh fine, I'm sure. I'm not entirely sure how the pot plant is helping Mr Potter with his sewing, but it seems to be making him happy enough. It must be quite important to him, I think. He keeps pointing to it as he talks in that bird-squawking language to his soft toys. And he's got them all sitting so they can see a lamp in the corner. Didn't even notice his breakfast arrive, bless him, and he's normally such a big eater."

"I shall check up on him in a jiffy," The Healer smiled "Thank you Marjorie."

"Not at all, not at all." She mumbled. On the whole, she thought, she preferred this job to the one she took pushing the food trolley on the Hogwarts Express; at least when patients on the Closed Ward did something unexpected, it wasn't likely to explode.

* * *

It was nearly evening, and after dinner at The Burrow, Ron and Hermione had decided to pay Harry another visit.

Harry, of course, was oblivious to this. He had just finished training his army in full combat warfare and martial arts, and now he was ready to put his plan into action.

"Right," He concluded, switching off and on the lamp at the wall with several complicated movements, as though ejecting a cassette "You all know who the enemy is, and now you all know how he needs to be dealt with. Are there any questions? Yes, you in the back?" Harry pointed to a glassy-eyed large blue penguin, who merely toppled over when addressed "That is a very good point, Lieutenant Kipper. You are all equipped with electronic homing devices. By clapping your flippers to your side three time like thus," he enthusiastically slapped his thighs several times "a radar will appear in your eyeball which you must follow to find your target. Any other questions?"

Harry, and not surprisingly his audience, remained silent.

"Excellent. Now, then, we shall begin the deployment."

Harry glanced at the ward's largest window, one he estimated to be just large enough to fit his biggest troop member, Private Waddington. It was open a fraction, enough to lever open further in order to secure his troop's successful release.

In several small trips, and much to the amusement of his fellow ward-members, Harry began rearranging the birds at the other end of the room, near Lockhart's bed.

"Hello! Another autograph? So soon?" Lockhart strode joyously toward Harry a piece of paper held aloft.

"Not now! This is a delicate operation!" Harry snapped and a Healer coaxed Lockhart back to his table while keeping a close eye on what exactly Mr. Potter had planned for those penguins.

"Good luck, men and women." Harry saluted, when everything was in place. Throwing the window open wide and grabbing the soft, furry Ron by the back of its neck, Harry didn't even notice the real Ron entering the room, nor Hermione's cries of

"What on earth is he doing with them now??"

All Harry knew, was that it was now or never, and his plans were finally taking flight.

* * *

A/N: So... what did you think?? Review and let me know! 


End file.
